


Là où rien n'est plus rien

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Needing to get away from it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bucky's skin is warm from the early morning sun and Bucky is warm and warmth has always meant life to Steve so he holds on tighter. Bucky's real hand comes up and loosely holds Steve's arms but doesn't try to remove them. They stand and watch as the sun comes up higher and the city shines in a way it never used to.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“It's bigger now,” Bucky says.</i></p><p>  <i>“Still New York.”</i></p><p>  <i>“Maybe that's the problem.” Barely more than a whisper and Steve isn't sure he's meant to hear. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Là où rien n'est plus rien

Steve wakes up alone. He's a little surprised, since he's usually up first. He rolls onto his side to look at the clock to see the small numbers blinking six fifty at him. He considers waiting for Bucky to come back but the bed is already cooling off. Bucky isn't coming back anytime soon. Bucky needs space, Steve knows that, knows sometimes he can't help and he has to wait. So Steve showers and dresses, takes his time, hoping Bucky will be there when he comes out.

He finds Bucky out on the balcony, wearing long sleeves despite the warm weather. Hiding the metal arm. Steve makes sure to shuffle his feet so he's heard. Once he snuck up by accident and though he wasn't hurt, Bucky's guilt lasted the rest of the day. He rests one hand lightly on Bucky's shoulder, waiting for him to shrug it off, to try to break it but there's no change. Steve steps closer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and Bucky lets him so he whispers good morning in his ear.

“Sorry for waking you,” Bucky whispers back, his voice is rough and Steve thinks he came straight here after rolling out of bed. 

“You didn't,” he assures, kissing his temple, smiling at the scratch of hair against his lips. Bucky's skin is warm from the early morning sun and Bucky is warm and warmth has always meant life to Steve so he holds on tighter. Bucky's real hand comes up and loosely holds Steve's arms but doesn't try to remove them. They stand and watch as the sun comes up higher and the city shines in a way it never used to.

“It's bigger now,” Bucky says.

“Still New York.”

“Maybe that's the problem.” Barely more than a whisper and Steve isn't sure he's meant to hear. He swallows his tongue and waits. He hates waiting. There's so much he's waited for and he thinks he's ready to start searching but there's too much they don't talk about. Steve isn't sure where to start. “Remember when we went to Atlantic City? And you got sick from eating too much ice cream?” Bucky suddenly asks

“Why are all our memories of me getting sick?” He grumbles because he's supposed to but Bucky's leaning back into him now and he can't erase his smile.

“Because most of the time we've known each other you've been sick.” Steve laughs since he can't really argue with him. “Let's go somewhere.”

Steve doesn't even think about it before saying yes and they're moving, throwing some things into a duffel. Steve still takes his shield and Bucky brings a sidearm because some things don't just stop no matter how badly they might want them too.

They take one of Tony's cars, one of the more practical ones. Clint is the only one who spots them and just says to keep their phones on or Natasha will be sent after them. Steve suggests going north first but Bucky says he's not sure he's allowed out of the country so they head south, no real final destination in mind.

Steve drives first while Bucky plays with the radio, never staying with a station longer then a song or two. Eventually he settles with his arms folded in the open window pillowing his head. His eyes are closed against the wind and he looks like he could be sleeping, though Steve doubts it.

They trade off part way through New Jersey, stopping long enough to get lunch before heading back out again. The radio stays off and Steve props his feet up on the dash with his sketchbook. Bucky takes them off the Turnpike, through smaller roads to avoid D.C. There's no map but he seems to have a course. Steve wonders if the Russians drilled it into his head. There were notes, files about the Winter Soldier going off the reservation when used in the States but they're brief and always end in 'Retraining Recommended'.

He wonders how many times.

Bucky jerks and Steve realized he'd spoken out loud and his voice carried in the silence of the car. His eyes dart to Steve's for a second, enough to ask what he's referring to without a word. Steve returns to his sketches and doesn't answer. They continue in silence until he feels the car slow and stop.

They're on a beach, though he doesn't even know what state they're in anymore. Bucky turns the car off and they sit there, not touching. Steve gets out of the car first and goes around to open Bucky's door. He doesn't wait, just takes Bucky's arm and tugs until he comes and follows him to the sand. The sun is starting to go down, turning the water shades of pink and yellow. Steve toes of his shoes and socks and when Bucky follows suit, he takes his hand and runs. He hears Bucky yelp behind him but he doesn't run that fast, their fingers intertwine and they’re side by side.

Water splashes at their ankles and Bucky finally tugs him to a stop. He grumbles that it's freezing and he kicks at it, sending spray away from them, droplets glittering in the sun for a moment before they became just ocean again. “I hate the cold,” he sighs and he sounds exhausted and Steve remembers he barely slept the night before that feels like a week ago. They're in another state, watching the sun go down and there's nothing to remind them that they're in the wrong time except that they're all wrong.

“Is that what keeps you awake?”

“No, it's nothingness.” He kneels down and lets his fingers drag in the water, staring fixedly at the metal one, watching the water distort and alter it as it moves around him. “I''m scared I'll wake up and find five years have passed and here's a gun do your duty, Soldier.”

Steve crouches beside him, the bottom of his pants quickly soak up the water and stick uncomfortably to his legs. “I won't let that happen again.”

He nods and rests his hands on his knees, wet spots in the shape of fingers quickly form and spread out on his jeans until there is only one large damp spot on each leg. “What keeps you awake, Steve?”

“The cold.” The cold of ice and the cold of wind cutting through his uniform as he hangs from a train, always reaching but never connecting. It's the cold of waking up alone and believing he'll always be alone. He touches Bucky now to reassure himself that he's there. “That this is a dream and we never found you.” Bucky stares at him and Steve feels the shift in his muscles and sees him moving but Steve's guard is down and suddenly they're crashing together into the water. He cries out at the sudden cold but Bucky's lips are on his and the thoughts of cold and ice that lingers at the corners of his thoughts shatter until a wave sends Bucky rolling off laughing. Steve sputters to get the taste of salt out of his mouth but then he's following and splashing Bucky.

They don't talk anymore of dreams and darkness as the sun sets. Steve says quietly they should go, the beach is going to close. He's shivering by the time they get back to the car and they blast all the heaters while they drive to a hotel. They're still wet when they arrive but luckily they don't get that weird of looks.

The room has two beds but they push them together without a word before stripping out of their damp clothes. They tangle together in the bed and Bucky's real hand is on his back, the metal one is curled under his head. Bucky notices him looking and says it's freezing cold. Steve kisses him because he has no answer, and it's the right answer. They twist together, Bucky underneath him, the arm of skin and muscle and bone around his shoulders. Steve reaches for the other, the one of metal and wires. Bucky's right, it is still cold but Steve holds it tighter.

They fuck slowly, pressed as close as possible as if that could erase their secrets. Bucky's arm is warm when they fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Vivre A En Crever from Mozart l'Opera Rock. It means 'there where nothing becomes something'.


End file.
